


Sit Beside Me (When the World Comes Down)

by mammothluv



Category: Charlie Brown: Blockhead's Revenge
Genre: F/F, Femslash, Misses Clause Challenge
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-12-19
Updated: 2012-12-19
Packaged: 2017-11-21 15:22:15
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,440
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/599291
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mammothluv/pseuds/mammothluv
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Marcie and Patty through the years</p>
            </blockquote>





	Sit Beside Me (When the World Comes Down)

**Author's Note:**

  * For [BridgetMcKennitt](https://archiveofourown.org/users/BridgetMcKennitt/gifts).



> Charlie Brown: Blockhead’s Revenge belongs to Funny or Die. Peanuts belongs to Charles Schultz and his estate. Section headers are quotes from the Peanuts comic strip and the title is inspired by lyrics from "Mona Lisa (When the World Comes Down)" by All American Rejects. I'm not making any profit and no copyright infringement is intended.
> 
> All the thanks in the world to my recipient for the awesome prompt! I hope you enjoy the story because I truly had fun writing it. Thank you also to lone_lilly for her fabulous beta work!

**I have a feeling that this is going to be a good year.**  
“When he gets in, remind Chuck he said he’d call me back, Sally,” Patty commands before hanging up the phone.

“I didn’t mean to eavesdrop, of course.” Patty whips her head around to find the source of the voice. The new camper with the short brown hair and glasses is perched on one of the top bunks with a book in her lap. Marcie, Patty remembers. The girl continues, “But, from the frequency of your calls, I would guess you are smitten with this Chuck. And I feel compelled to suggest you instead like someone who will call you back.”

“The heart is an unruly creature,” Patty laments, her feet heavy as she walks in Marcie’s direction.

Marcie simply nods, shrugs her shoulders, and returns her attention to the book in her lap, a prop Patty hasn’t seen her without since they all arrived three days ago. Patty’s beginning to find it frustrating and yet she can’t quite bring herself to leave this cabin and head elsewhere unless she can compel this strange girl to come with her. 

“Don’t you want to go outside? Play hopscotch? Run in the races? Take the lesson on tying knots?” Patty asks this as she sprawls in the bed just below Marcie’s. She grabs a ball sitting on the nightstand and begins bouncing against the platform above her, the one Marcie’s mattress rests on, and catching it when it falls back. 

“I’m up to date on my knotting skills and, as for the idea of participating in the other activities, I often prefer solitude and the company of a good book.” As if to emphasize her first point, Marcie leans down so Patty can see just the top of her upside down head. Then she extends one arm to hand Patty a rope with several knots tied in it. 

Patty examines the rope for a moment and then drops it. The truth is she hasn’t taken the knotting class herself so she has no way of judging Marcie’s expertise. Instead she returns to bouncing the ball against the plank above her. “You’re weird,” Patty vocalizes what she’s been thinking since the moment they met. 

“I very well may be, Sir,” Marcie responds, her head disappearing from Patty’s view once again. 

The ball falls this time and Patty’s hand isn’t there to meet it. Instead it lands on her face and bounces to the floor, rolling to a stop somewhere in the corner.

 _Sir?_

 

 **Try not to have a good time . . . This is supposed to be educational.**  
The last thing Patty hears as she slides into home plate is the, “Way to go, Sir!” from the bleachers. There are several others screaming and Marcie’s not particularly loud but Patty’s grown accustomed to picking her voice out of the crowd. 

Not much later they’re on their way to the pizza place across the street for their usual after game half extra-cheese, half pepperoni and two root beers when Marcie says, “My Academic Super Bowl team is in the finals tomorrow. I thought you might come.”

Patty scoffs. “Super Bowl? How can they call it a Super Bowl when there’s no action? No roughhousing? No genuine down and dirty competition? No thank you, Marcie.” 

Marcie stops short, turns away from the pizzeria and in the direction of home.

“Where are you going?” 

“Home, Sir. I don’t think I’m that hungry after all.” Patty is certain she detects a hint of anger in Marcie’s voice when she quietly mutters as she walks away, “Academic achievement is its own reward.” 

A half hour later Lucy and Chuck pull up two chairs at her otherwise empty table. Lucy helps herself to a slice of pizza and Chuck looks at Patty expectantly until she waves at him to feel free to take one too. 

Lucy holds out her hand, “Come on,” she says. “There is no mistaking your look of defeat.” 

Patty digs in her pocket until she finds a nickel, then places it in Lucy’s hand. It’s a relic of days gone by. Later Lucy will insist her advice was far more valuable. Patty will likely end up having to buy her lunch tomorrow. 

Lucy and Chuck listen to her detailing of the days events which end with Marcie’s sudden departure. 

Lucy sighs dramatically when Patty is finished, “Sometimes I forget that he,” she gestures at Charlie Brown who doesn’t react at all, “isn’t the only emotional blockhead in our little band. We’re going to be in high school next year. You two really ought to do some social skill development.” Lucy directs her eyes toward the window, seeming to lose focus for a moment. “Maybe I could start a course. My superior social skills and excellence in teaching could benefit so many. I wonder what a proper fee structure would be...”

“We were talking about my problem here,” Patty interrupts. 

“I believe were were,” Chuck agrees. 

Lucy glances at both of them with something approaching irritation but she relents and returns her focus to Patty, “You know Marcie doesn’t even like softball, right?”

“That ridiculous! We all played softball together and she still comes to every one of my games.” 

“We played when we were eight, Patty, that does not translate to a lifelong love of the game. You might have noticed none of the rest of us are a regular presence at your games. You can’t tell me you don’t realize Marcie wouldn’t rather be at home with her bespectacled little face stuck in one of those gigantic books she adores so much. She goes to the games because of you, because your best friends or,” Lucy waves her hands here like there’s something she’s leaving out, “...whatever you are.” 

“Oh, Lucy, Chuck, I’ve been such a dope.” Patty says, as she picks up and chugs the remainder of her root beer and then rests her head against the table in disbelief at her own foolishness. 

The next afternoon, the members of the Academic Super Bowl team take their spots at the table set up on a small riser at the front of one of the larger classrooms. The audience consists mostly of parents of the players and a few geeky looking kids Patty doesn’t recognize. 

When Marcie’s name is read and she walks out to take her seat, Patty’s “Hit it out of the park, Marcie!” is met with disdainful looks and shushes from parents whose heads snap around to look in her direction. But, Marcie smiles brightly as she sits down and pulls her chair closer to the table. Patty thinks she catches too, the slightest hint of a blush as Marcie looks out in the audience to make eye contact with her and offer a brief nod of acknowledgement.

 

 **Nothing takes the taste out of peanut butter quite like unrequited love.**  
“Let’s go over it again.” Sally is practically bouncing as the words come out of her mouth and, for not the first time this afternoon, Patty regrets asking her advice. 

“You go away. Marcie arrives. I ask her to the prom.” 

“Okay, my plan had a few more romantic flourishes but hopefully you’ll remember those in the moment,” Sally enthuses, as she reaches out to fluff Patty’s hair, completely ignoring Patty’s attempts to back away. “It’s going to be so romantic. I always knew you two would end up together. It’s meant to be, just like Linus and me.” Sally grabs a pillow from the bed and hugs it tightly, sitting down on the edge of the mattress with a dreamy look in her eye. Patty follows, sitting down next to her. 

If Patty wants to usher Sally out of her bedroom any time soon, it may not be the best time to remind her that she and Linus broke up at least three times last week alone. Luckily she hears the distinctive clip of Marcie’s steps coming up the stairs before the words have a chance to leave her mouth. 

“Quiet,” she warns Sally. “She’s coming.”

“Eeek!” 

“Please do your best not to shriek with delight directly in her face as you just did in mine,” Patty says dryly. 

Patty’s bedroom door opens and a large stack of books enters first. Marcie struggles behind, barely able to carry them all. She deposits the books on Patty’s desk with a resounding thud.

“Really, Marcie?” Patty asks, unable to keep the edge of dread out of her voice. 

“This final is going to be serious business and you haven’t read a book all year. Which, may I remind you, I told you in September you would regret at this exact point.” 

“Is now the time to rub in that you were right?” 

Marcie’s response is to open a book and shove it into Patty’s hands. “I’m helping you study, aren’t I? If I can irritate and educate you at the same time, I find it a great victory, Sir.” She grabs a book of her own and plops down on Patty’s bed. 

Sally bounces up from her spot on the bed in response. “I have to skedaddle! Plans with Linus. You two have fun... studying.” 

Patty has never been more grateful for Marcie’s complete inability to focus on anything else when there is a book in front of her because Sally’s exaggerated wink as she draws out the word “studying” is hundreds of miles down the road from subtle.

As soon as Sally is gone, Patty feels the nervous energy she was able to fight off before building in her chest. She picks at the edge of the book in her hands. If she doesn’t do this now, she won’t. She takes a calming breath. 

“So, Marcie, about junior prom.” 

“We really do need to concentrate on our exam preparation,” Marcie reprimands without even looking up from her book. “So to get it out of the way, yes, I’m going with Franklin. He asked me earlier this morning.” When Marcie finally glances up, Patty directs her eyes downward quickly, hopes the act is enough to cover her disappointment. “Are you going? I didn’t think prom would be your thing.” 

“I don’t know. It might be good for a laugh. Maybe I’ll ask Chuck.”

There’s a hint of something--Patty doesn’t dare hope it’s jealousy anymore--in Marcie’s voice when she replies, “Yes. Of course.”

 

 **I just don't know how to write a love letter.**  
Patty does ask Chuck, mostly because she can’t imagine how she’d answer Marcie if she asked her why she didn’t and because she’s sick of the pitying looks Sally’s been lobbing at her ever since she learned Marcie was going with Franklin. 

Chuck says yes, picks her up at the door with a flower he awkwardly pins on her chest.

Patty pretends not to notice that he spends the whole night with his eyes on Lucy as she clings to Schroeder on the dance floor. And Chuck is kind enough to return the favor--or possibly just oblivious--when Patty spends most of the night whispering sarcastic comments about their classmates in Marcie’s ear. 

Marcie reprimands her, “Sir! That’s mean.” But the words lose any bite they might have had when they’re punctuated with a stifled giggle. It’s an effort to drag her eyes from Marcie, force them and her attention to focus on Chuck.

Still she says yes when, at the end of the night, he stumblingly asks her to dance. 

He fumbles too through a kiss in the front seat of his car when he drops her back at her house, his lips sloppy and eager against her own. She feels a rush of nervous butterflies in her stomach as she puts her hands on his shoulders--stronger and broader than she thought--and pulls him in closer. 

She hums quietly to herself as she gets out of his car and walks up the drive to her front door, thinks maybe second best will be good enough for both of them. 

But an hour later, there’s a soft knock on her window and Marcie’s there. She’s still in her prom dress, a dark midnight blue, tight against pale skin. Patty’s in her pajamas now--a ratty old baseball shirt and flannel pants--but Marcie still uses the present tense, her cheeks turning an intense shade of pink as she says, “I just wanted to tell you you look beautiful tonight, Sir.” 

Oh.

Marcie turns as if to walk away, but Patty leans out the open window, reaches for her. Patty’s hand is warm against Marcie’s cool skin and there’s not a single coherent thought in her head as she tugs on Marcie’s arm until Marcie is facing her once again, barely room for breath between them. 

Then her lips are on Marcie’s and it’s soft and sure. There are no butterflies, just pure warmth, as Marcie’s lips part against her own and Marcie's tongue travels lightly along Patty’s lower lip.

 

 **I have loved you since the first day I saw you. Whenever that was.**  
“You’ve been studying for over an hour. There’s no way you’re going to be unprepared for this presentation tomorrow.” Patty sighs dramatically, tossing her pen down on the bed for emphasis. 

“I’m not the one I’m worried about,” Marcie responds with a pointed look in Patty’s direction.

“I’ll be prepared,” Patty promises, leaning in to place a soft kiss at a particularly inviting point on Marcie’s collarbone. “Just looking at you I’m prepared.” 

Marcie pulls away. Attempts, unconvincingly, to look as if her full attention is on the notebook in front of her. “This is our first presentation as college students. I want to excel.”

“As do I. Excellence is my one and only goal.” This time Patty’s fingers brush Marcie’s knee, working upwards to the exposed skin of her lower thigh.

“If only we could utilize for academic purposes this ability of yours to turn everything I say into sexual innuendo, we’d be sure to get the best grade in the class.” 

“Marcie, put the notes down and kiss me.” Her hands are brushing Marcie’s inner thigh now and Marcie’s sigh this time is not one of exasperation. 

“Yes, Sir,” she replies, the notes forgotten as she shifts into Patty’s touch.

“Don’t call me Sir.” Patty pinches Marcie’s thigh lightly.

Marcie jumps just slightly in response but steadies herself with a hand on Patty’s shoulder, that same hand then slides down to trace a line along Patty's back. “Fine, Pep.” 

“Definitely don’t call me Pep.” 

“No, Sir,” Marcie says with a firm shake of her head and then a mock salute in Patty’s direction. “So particular, Sir.” 

Patty pushes at Marcie's shoulders in response and Marcie falls back easily so she’s prone on the bed.

“Always the attitude,” she mutters as she climbs slowly up Marcie’s body, taking the time to unbutton Marcie's shirt as she goes and then lay gentle kisses and light licks against inviting bare skin.

“I do believe you’re the one with the attitude,” Marcie replies smartly. “I’m the sweet one. It’s why you love me, Pep Sir.”

“I do,” Patty affirms as she parts Marcie’s thighs by insinuating one knee in between. “I really, really do.” 

 

 **It always looks darkest just before it gets totally black.**  
Marcie shivers, wraps her arms around herself. Her chest is bare except for her white bra and a bright red cut that interrupts the expanse of pale skin.

Patty and Marcie have taken shelter in an abandoned cabin not too far from the one the group of them are staying in this weekend. They sit on the floor in the kitchen, their breathing heavy, all senses on alert for any indication Chuck has found them again. They’re tucked behind a counter so neither of them is visible from the windows or the entryway. 

Patti can’t find a way to reconcile the lighthearted start to the weekend--a football game filled with laughter and old memories--with the nightmare they’re stuck in now.

_It had to have been just minutes ago and yet there’s a lifetime between now and when Patty slid her hands underneath Marcie’s shirt, eased it over her head and tossed it on the ground as she pressed Marcie against the tree and began to explore familiar landscapes with her hands and tongue._

_Suddenly there was a noise. Marcie whispering, “What’s that?” Patty’s low laugh as she turned to look over her shoulder, sure it was nothing. Amused at Marcie’s nervousness._

_And then._

_Chuck’s knife heading towards Marcie’s chest, the panic that nearly choked her at the sight. She recalls the hard unyielding feel of his body underneath her as she tackled him to the ground, the sound of his steps in pursuit as she grabbed Marcie’s arm and ran._

Marcie speaks, pulling Patty back to the present. “I’ve seen this movie, Sir. The lesbians always die.” 

Patty’s mind stutters, takes what feels like minutes to catch up with the words Marcie has just spoken. 

“I’m pansexual,” she says. The correction, though completely unnecessary in current circumstances, comes tumbling out of her mouth nonetheless. “You identify as bi. And don’t call me Sir.” 

“Please, as if popular media is concerned with the nuance. As far as they’re concerned, anyone who kisses a girl is a lesbian. And the lesbians always die.” Marcie’s voice is higher than normal, the words tumbling out faster than usual. Then she raises her eyes to meet Patty’s, inhales deeply. “And you didn’t mind the ‘Sir” twenty minutes ago.” Marcie winks as she says it. Patty doesn’t fail to notice that, despite the calmer tone, Marcie’s whole body is shaking and there’s a glassy look in her eyes. But there’s something about the false bravado in the midst of tonight’s horror.

Patty feels something break loose inside her in response.

She’ll do anything to save Marcie, save this. And all that she can think now that Marcie has brought up horror films is that they can’t stay here. If this were a movie, this is exactly where he’d find them, exactly where they’d die. 

Patty stands, grabs the largest knife in the butcherblock on the counter. 

“You’re not dying tonight,” she says. She hopes there is steel in her voice, that she keeps her hand from shaking as she grabs Marcie and pulls her up and then out the door. 

 

 **Happiness is...**  
Marcie can’t sleep without nightmares and Patty doesn’t sleep at all so they pile their luggage in the back of Patty’s mom’s old station wagon. 

Sally comes to say goodbye and Patty’s eyes land on the faint scar just above her temple. So many times in the past month it’s taken Patty back to screams, the slick feel of blood under her bare feet, Sally wide-eyed and trembling as Patty grabbed her hands and dragged her farther into the woods with her and Marcie. 

But today, the promise of miles between her and Marcie and this town stretching out in front of her, Patty can look at Sally and see a little girl with blonde hair and a baseball cap. She can remember the dirt of the pitcher’s mound under her cleats, Chuck at bat...

Chuck. She shivers, forces as smile that she knows Sally won’t believe anyway, says one last time, “You’re sure you don’t want to come with us?” 

Sally just shakes her head and scratches Snoopy’s head. He leans against her leg as if sensing she needs comfort. 

Marcie moves from her spot behind Patty to pull Sally into one last hug. Then she leans down and gives Snoopy a light kiss on the tip of his nose. Patty can’t help but notice the streaks of grey that interrupt once stark black patches of fur as she too kneels down to hug the dog. “Goodbye, old friend,” she whispers into his ear. 

To Sally she says, “We’ll call when we’ve settled. You’re always welcome, wherever we end up.” 

“Good luck,” is all Sally says, her eyes fixed at some point in the distance.

As Patty slams shut her door, a loud and final sound and the only touch of drama she’ll allow herself today, she says to Marcie who has settled in next to her, “You still don’t care where we go?”

Marcie leans back against the passenger seat, turns her head just slightly, eyes on Patty as she says, “With you driving, Sir, I’m ready to go anywhere.” 

Patty leans into the warm familiarity of it, reaches down and turns up the radio before resting her hand on Marcie’s knee. “Let’s head south. And don’t call me Sir.”


End file.
